Forbidden (Scandalous Sirens) (12 page)

But he didn’t hear any more of Natasha’s indignant words, for he was racing forward, his heart hammering in his chest, echoing in his throat and temple. Fear was a live snake in his belly.

“No, Elisa! Don’t!” he cried. But it was too late.

The horse tried valiantly to take the wall. He watched the big beast gather himself, the powerful hind legs bunching and pushing off, the woman in blue clinging to his back like a burr. He saw Elisa’s white face and big eyes as the horse lifted. Fear and exaltation were fighting for expression.

The gray almost made it. Almost.

His forelegs smashed through the capstones of the wall. If it had been a mortared wall, the animal would have been brought to a solid, crashing halt, but the loose stones pushed away and the horse was reaching for solid ground on the other side, whinnying.

He landed hard and Vaughn heard the wet crack of breaking bone. The horse and Elisa both screamed. As the horse went down Elisa was thrown over his head.

Vaughn watched with sick horror as she curled herself into a protective ball. She hit the ground with her shoulder and rolled for several yards before coming to a halt.

He didn’t remember covering the ground between him and her still figure. He was just suddenly there, gathering her into his arms, too scared to even breathe.

She was conscious and as he lifted her she opened her eyes and gasped. “I am unhurt,” she told him as he brushed at the dirt on her cheek.

“How could you not be hurt?” he whispered, his voice strangled by the tension in his throat—in his whole body.

She gave another gusty sigh. “I learned how to take a fall before I turned seven.” She reached up and caressed his jaw. “Truly, I am fine.”

Relief swept through him and the release of tension was so great he was dizzy with it. He swallowed. “For my sake, Elisa, please don’t do that again.”

She was gazing at him, a gentle, knowing smile on her perfectly formed lips. “I won’t,” she assured him. She looked past his shoulder.

“Vaughn, is Madame Elisa hurt?”

Natasha.

“She’s fine,” he told her shortly, keeping his face averted from her.

He grew aware of the horse, then. It was grunting and squealing, over by the wall. And it was lying on its side, in writhing agony.

Sad pity touched him. “Natasha, you must go back to the house. Quickly now.”

Elisa caught at his sleeve and turned her face into his chest with a little moan. She knew what must be done.

“Why?” Natasha asked, puzzled.

“Get Joshua. Tell him to fetch my father’s hunting gun. Please hurry.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Oh my goodness—I saw her fall! Elisa, my dear!” It was Caroline, hurrying as fast as her skirts would allow
.

The noises the horse was making were distressing. Vaughn couldn’t spare time to explain unpleasant facts to Natasha. He looked at the older woman, instead. “Caroline. Please, most quickly, you must take your daughter inside. Fetch Joshua, or the first manservant you find out here with my father’s rifle.”

“But…Elisa?” Caroline asked.

“She’s fine. Please, hurry.”

Caroline grasped her daughter’s arm. “Come, dear,” she coaxed as Natasha stood staring at Vaughn and the woman in his arms.

Movement behind Caroline caught his eye. Vaughn shifted a little to see behind her.

It was Rufus, stalking towards them as fast as his short legs would carry him. His face was a deep, angry red and his eyes…

Vaughn shivered. Rufus had the eyes of a man going mad. His gaze was locked unwaveringly on Elisa and him.

Alarm gripped him. What was Rufus about to do? Almost instinctively, Vaughn shifted Elisa’s weight to one arm, freeing his right arm.

Rufus strode straight past Caroline, who was still coaxing the reluctant Natasha inside. As he brushed past them, he reached into his jacket. He pulled out a silver pistol and cocked it.

Vaughn’s mind tried to deal with the shocking possibility that Rufus would simply shoot him where he knelt and Elisa, too. His left arm tightened around her, as he scrambled to think of a way out of this. But Rufus was moving too fast and his wild expression said he would not be reasoned with. Not now.

Vaughn took a deep breath as Rufus reached them, ready to spring up and stand between Elisa and the little man, but instead of raising the pistol and aiming at him, Rufus kept walking straight past them.

Vaughn turned his head to follow Rufus as the man walked straight up to the kicking, screaming horse, pointed the gun at the horse’s head. He did not wait to aim, or brace himself. He simply fired, his set expression and wild eyes not changing one iota.

The horse went still.

Natasha screamed and Vaughn heard the rustle of skirts and a soft thump behind him. She’d fainted.

“Oh my…” Caroline said, her voice weak.

Elisa’s hand on his arm tightened its grip. “Oh god, Vaughn…what have I done?” she whispered. “He will kill us both.”

Before he could form an answer, Rufus swung back to face them. He walked towards them, the smoking gun hanging from his hand. He came right up to them, staring down at Elisa. The legs of his fawn pants were splattered in blood.

“I told you I didn’t want you riding,” he said, his voice very calm. His mouth pulled back in a smile. “I always get my way, do you see?” He stared at Vaughn as he placed the pistol back in his jacket.

Elisa trembled against him as he stared up at his father.

Rufus grinned again, the expression one of wolfish pleasure. Then he turned and walked back to the house with the same direct gait as before, straight past Caroline where she was bent over her daughter’s prostrate body.

Caroline quailed as he passed her.

Vaughn took a deep breath and tried to let the knot in his stomach unravel. Elisa was right. With only a little more provocation, Rufus might very well shoot them both. He had not foreseen that death could be the price for his obsession with Elisa.

Thoughtfully, he got to his feet and lifted Elisa into his arms, intending to carry her back to the house. “I’ll send some people to help you with Natasha,” he told Caroline as he passed her.

“Thank you, Vaughn,” she said quietly, with the full dignity of the lady she was.

Vaughn kept on towards the house and looked down at Elisa. Tears were streaking her smeared face and making the blue eyes sparkle. Her hair was a halo of unruly golden locks about her face. It was then he noticed the unfastened bodice and the glimpse of soft white skin between the gaping closure. His lips had been there.

He remembered the scent of her and his body tightened in response. His hand under her legs identified flesh guarded by only the thin layer of velvet. Elisa had been out riding bereft of every accoutrement of a proper lady.

“Why, Elisa?” he asked her.

“Because of you.” Her answer, like her expression, lacked shield or disguise.

He looked away from her face, from the naked emotion there, and concentrated on the front steps of the hall where servants were spilling down onto the grass, coming to help, their faces shocked.

He must cease this mad, forbidden game. Now and at once, before events spiraled far out of his control.

* * * * *

Elisa sat in her room for hours, staring at the mundane landscape that had been on the bedroom wall since she had moved into it. It had been a present from Rufus to mark their engagement.

She’d always hated the picture.

She was certain Rufus would be paying a visit upon the morrow to express his dissatisfaction with her actions. No doubt, he would not content himself with expressing it verbally.

The thought of Rufus beating her held a certain grim, stark comfort. She deserved whatever he chose to mete out to her. She had earned every stroke, lash or blow he laid upon her.

And once it was done, she could retreat to the mundane safety of her life as Rufus’ future wife, then wait and work for her life’s ambition: to get back her little boy. The appalling blandness of that life would take her away from temptation, from wickedness.

But then, oh then, she would never again feel the thrill of being in Vaughn’s arms, or experience the weakening rush of hot pleasure as he touched or tasted her with his knowing hands and lips. She would be forced to send him from her and never again see his broad shoulders, the lithe cat-like way he prowled about a room, watching her, wanting her, scheming his sensual schemes.

Elisa had reached this aching impasse a dozen times in the hours she sat in the chair looking at the drab landscape, her body throbbing with need and her mind dizzy with the erotic recall of Vaughn’s mouth on her breasts.
  
She would remember the touch of his hands on her waist and the gentle caress of a fingertip across her cheek. With her eyes closed, she would conjure up a memory of the scent of him, the sound of his voice against her ear when she had rested her head against his chest. Finally, when she truly knew she must die if she did not have him, then she would deliberately look up at the picture and remind herself that she was Rufus’ fiancée.

A knock at the door made Elisa start. Wiping away the tears with the back of her hand, she walked toward the door, suddenly cold and trembling.

Was it Rufus, come so soon for his pound of flesh?

It occurred to her that she was completely without defense here, lacking even the small pocket knife that women who travelled widely regularly carried with them. But then, if Rufus had decided to beat her, he was perhaps entitled. Why did thoughts of weapons spring so quickly to mind? But she knew the answer to that: Rufus always carried at least one small Derringer on his person and today had seen fit to use it. He had proved he was capable of violence.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.

Vaughn stood before her. He wore no jacket and his neckwear was missing. His shirt was askew, as though he’d gone to undress, then reconsidered. His eyes were smoky with emotion.

Her heart lurched and she took a quick step back.

“May I come in?”

It was highly improper and risky considering Rufus’ current state of mind.
 
Despite that knowledge, she motioned him in, his very presence corroding her judgment.

He walked past her, his masculine scent lingering behind him. As she shut the door, she closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply. She wanted him.

By the time she turned to face him, he was sitting on her bed. Her pulse jumped. How virile he was! So tempting…especially to a woman who hadn’t made love in over five years.

“Come here,” he said, his voice low and seductive as he motioned to the space beside him.

His long-fingered hand lay on her coverlet invitingly.

“I won’t bite.”

She slowly walked toward him. He moved his hand and she sat down, making sure to leave a respectable distance between them. The corner of his mouth lifted in a grin that only added to his striking looks.

“Where have you been?” she asked, her voice cracking.

He reached out and took a lock of her hair between his fingers. “I needed to get away from here for a little while. I took a walk.” His fingers brushed against her neck, causing her stomach to tighten.

“We must stop this, Vaughn,” she said desperately. “Now, before it is too late. We are not guilty yet—”

“In my heart, I have been guilty since the moment I saw you,” Vaughn replied. “The guilt of the flesh is a minor transgression in comparison to what you and I have done together in my mind.”

She swallowed hard as his eyes settled on her lips.

“I don’t know what Rufus will do if we do not stop this,” she told him.

“How will you be able to stand it, alone in this mausoleum with him as a husband?” He cocked his head slightly, studying her. “You’re so young…so very desirable.”

“I’m too old for you,” she blurted, dropping her gaze to his chest. It was a mistake, for she caught a glimpse of smooth, well-defined muscle where his shirt opened. Strong, sculptured, firm…how she wanted to feel and taste every inch of him!

“You’re a beautiful, desirable woman, Elisa. Have you forgotten that in your time here?”

“I am to be your stepmother.”

He shrugged. “We’re not related by blood. And in truth, I care not what Rufus might do. Not when you are here next to me. When I look at you I forget everything but the fact that I desire you.” His eyes were smoldering with need.

“We must not—”

His arm wrapped around her waist and lifted her. She was slipped onto his lap, trailing blue velvet across his knees. The strong muscles of his thighs flexed beneath the back of hers and as he shifted, she felt the evidence of his desire— hard, long and thick against her hip. “I want you,” he whispered against her neck, his hot breath fanning her ear a moment before he kissed her there. A shiver went through her.

She turned, ready to deny him, when he kissed her. Swiftly, his soft lips grew more demanding. His tongue was like velvet against her own, sweeping the recesses of her mouth, stealing the very breath from her lungs.